


We Will Not Wander Alone

by sergeant_angel



Series: Evil Eyes and Daring Dodos [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, eventually a leverage crossover, eventually lots of things, guess who's back back again, i'm already working on like five other big things so why am i doing this????, i'm finally tackling daredevil season two and i am Not Okay, jfc what a pompous pretentious title that's probably going to change too, so many more real tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 20:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_angel/pseuds/sergeant_angel
Summary: Matt has settled in to being Daredevil; Kate has settled into being a civilian...sort of. Everything is great until Kate is tasked with figuring out who is shooting up Hell's Kitchen. I think we can all imagine just how well that's going to go.Or, to put it another way: Matt and Kate take on season two!





	We Will Not Wander Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for that truly awful summary. Thanks for popping in anyway!  
> So yeah. This is my nazar-ified take on season two that for some reason I'm just now deciding to post? Probably because this doesn't have that pesky little thing called a PLOT.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoy and if you don't feel free to protest by writing MattKate fic or creating MattKate art to really show me what's what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my computer ate some of this, so it has been lightly updated to make more sense. hopefully.

Rogers slides a file over to her. "There have been some...shootings. In Hell's Kitchen." 

Kate flips through it. "That's an undersell, Steve. Holy _shit_. Why are you coming to me with this?" 

"I think this is one person. And--" he hesitates now, like he's trying to decide if he trusts her. "I think it might be Bucky." 

"Barnes?" 

"He has the ability. You've seen what he did to DC." 

Kate pages through the file. "The description is a dark-haired sniper. Steve, I know at least two people that describes. That could describe me."

"I didn't know you were a tactical hit squad."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me, Steve. Anyway, why Hell's Kitchen? Why these guys? Steve, it's probably not him." 

"But what if it is? I have to make sure." He gives her an entirely unconvincing smile. "If I honestly thought this was him, I'd go myself. But I don't, and this is your turf. Look into it." 

Kate slips the file into her bag. "Look into what?" 

.... .- .-- -.- . -.-- .    .-.. --- ...- . ...    -.. .- .-. . -.. . ...- .. .-..

Matt doesn't pick up but that's not unusual, and she's still on Nepal time so she figures she may as well get some work done, get back on some cases she had to drop when she got the assemble call last week. 

Kate is scaling walls and snapping pictures of her third cheating husband of the month, phone on silent, which is why she misses Foggy's call. 

All twenty of them.  

"Who's dead?" She practically shouts when he picks up. 

"Nobody's dead. At least, not yet. Matt got shot last night." 

Kate's chest constricts. 

"He's alive." 

"Where was he shot?" 

"On a rooftop." 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Foggy, that's not what I meant." 

"Oh. Right. Um--" 

"Don't tell her," Matt's voice comes, faint, across the line. "Don't, Foggy, let me--" 

"He got shot in the head." 

Kate's phone is somehow, inexplicably, on the sidewalk. 

Breathing. Breathing is something she's got to remember how to do. 

… 

"He was pretty insistent I let him explain," Foggy says when she runs into him on the sidewalk in front of Matt's apartment. _Says_ is kind of generous. It underplays the simmering rage and the abject terror Kate can see in his eyes. "Look, I've got to go actually be a lawyer. Please make sure he doesn't do—do whatever the hell he wants to go do. That guy is going to _slaughter_ him, Kate." 

"Foggy--" she catches his elbow and he rips his arm out of her grasp. 

"Look. I don't get it, what you do. But I get why Matt has to do it even less. He's going to get himself killed."

Kate can't exactly argue that, nor does she get the chance to, with Foggy pushing past her and disappearing into a crush of people. It doesn't matter--right now, her priority is Matt. Matt, who is sitting on the floor, _yelling_ , like something's wrong. They're lucky his neighbors work during the day--"Matt?" She says, trying to get his attention.  

“Matt?” she says, repeats it, louder. He doesn’t respond, he’s still yelling, still terrfied. She catches sight of his helmet out of the corner of her eye, the crack over the right eye.  

She grabs his hands and he starts, fighting against her but not hard.  

“Foggy?” he asks, too loud.  

He can’t hear. _He can’t hear_ and her heart drops unpleasantly into her stomach.  

Kate holds his hands more firmly, spreading them open, placing his fingers on her face. He’s frantic, for a moment, his fingertips skimming over her features. He's shaking so hard she can feel it vibrate across her skin. 

“Kate,” he says, still too loud. “I can’t—I can’t—“ 

She redirects his fingers to her mouth, her jaw. “You have a concussion, Matt,” she tells him. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying, he’s too panicked. 

Kate slides one of his hands down her chest, right over her heart, exaggerating her breaths. _That_ he does get, matching his breath to hers. 

His shoulders drop.  

“That’s it,” she says. “Just like that.” 

It’s a few minutes later when the hand she isn’t holding to her chest moves from her jaw to the side of her face, tracing the scars from Madame Masque’s cigarette obsession.  

That’s one of the weird habits they share; feeling up each other’s scars is grounding. Well, to Kate it is; she’s not sure what Matt gets from it, just that he gets _something_ from it.  

Matt leans into her, pressing his forehead to hers. And then he _laughs_ at her, a halfhearted chuckle at the way her breath hitches and her pulse picks up.  

“I’m not trying to _kiss_ you, Kate,” he smirks. He's still too loud—why can’t he hear? Is it a really bad headache? At least he’s not puking, then it would definitely be haul-your-ass-to-a-hospital time. 

“Oh, screw you,” she mutters. “Let’s see how you react when you’re this close to making out with you, your stupid face all close—“ 

It’s probably good he can’t hear right now. That is a poor rebuttal, even by Hawkeye standards. 

They stay like that long enough for Kate to lose track of the time, long enough for her lack of sleep to catch up with her. When she pulls away, Matt clutches at her forearm, but all she does is lay so that her head is on his thigh. His fingers stroke her forehead, running through her hair. His breathing evens out; his posture changes like it does when he’s meditating. Kate gives the Daredevil mask one last glare before shutting her eyes, stress and jet lag and exhaustion all catching up to her at once. 

-.. .- .-. . -.. . ...- .. .-..   .-.. --- ...- . ...   .... .- .-- -.- . -.-- .

She wakes to the sound of snapping. Matt is snapping his fingers next to his ear and smiling. 

"Sound back on?" 

His fingers skim her lower lip, her jaw. "I love the sound of your voice." 

"I hate it when you're sweet before I have to get mad at you." 

"Why do you have to get—oh." 

"Yeah. _Oh_. What part of going after a one-man gang killer _alone_ seemed like a good idea?" Kate taps ever-so-gently on Matt's bloody temple. "You could have been killed. He _meant_ to kill you, Matt." Her voice catches in her throat. This guy had no way of knowing what your helmet would block, and that's not someplace you shoot someone if you don't want to kill them!" 

"Kate." Matt's hand curls around the back of her head, drawing her close, which is when she realizes how close she is to hyperventilating. "This guy—he's smart. Trained. If he'd wanted me dead, I would be. I believe that." 

 _Smart. Trained._ It can't be, it's the least logical explanation ever.  

"If you'd been as close to me as he was...." he trails off. "Missing wasn't a mistake. He didn't want to kill me. I promise, I didn't know it was going to go down like that, and anyway, I had to do something," Matt continues in that soft voice. "You wouldn't have gotten the call in time. You were on a military aircraft, probably filling out paperwork, right?" 

"I don't want that bullshit logic from you right now, Matt. You almost died. Alone. On a rooftop." 

Matt looks like he's about to protest before shaking his head with a sigh. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me." 

 _Catholics._ "You're forgiven. Just don't do it again, okay? I know you want this guy but you absolutely have a concussion and need to stay in for at least a week. Promise me you're not going to go after this guy on your own." 

"Only if you do, too." 

"Are you kidding? I'm absolutely not going after this guy alone. I'm not an idiot." 

Matt scowls at her. 

"You aren't allowed to make that face. You got shot in the head," she reminds him. 

"Yeah, you're right." He sighs. "I won't go after him alone. Promise." 

"Good." Kate presses her lips to his jaw as she rises. "Don't go anywhere." 

She comes back with a damp washcloth, dabbing under his nose until Matt takes it from her to wipe away the blood. "I really should take you to the hospital." 

"I would just leave immediately." 

"Yeah," Kate settles back on the floor, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know." 

"Hey." He turns his face into her hair, nuzzling just a little. "Thank you." They sit like that for a minute before Matt stiffens. "Someone's coming—Karen. Karen's--" 

A knock at the door. 

"I guess that's my cue to leave." Kate sighs and starts to stand. 

"Why?" Matt slides his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. "I hide too much from my friends. I don't want to hide this any more. Stay." 

**Author's Note:**

> did that work are you writing mattkate yet


End file.
